


Ceasefire

by Basingstoke



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-18
Updated: 2005-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-02 17:44:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to Livia and Christy for the beta reads.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Ceasefire

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Livia and Christy for the beta reads.

Rodney ran out of steam like a clockwork doll running down. "With the ZPM at its current level of depletion we can expmumph" and that was it, he was on his knees and then face-down in the hallway, out like a light.

Caldwell looked at Sheppard. "I assume if he were injured, we'd know."

"Yes, sir. Not really the stoic type."

Caldwell nodded and checked Rodney's head and eyes anyway, apparently looking for a hidden concussion. "Do you know where his quarters are?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then get his feet and steer." Caldwell picked up Rodney's shoulders. Sheppard got his feet and pointed the way with his chin.

Orders. He knew everyone was expecting him to buck at the traces, but right about now, the feeling of hierarchy and structure closing around him was like a warm handshake from an old friend. "Sir, can I say something?" Sheppard said.

Caldwell nodded.

"The only reason we all didn't cheer when you showed up was because we've been awake for three days straight. We're God damn happy to see you," Sheppard said, letting his tone carry the subtext: Including me. Especially me.

Caldwell got it. "You're not alone out here, Major."

They won. They won against fourteen hive ships. They weren't abandoned, they weren't alone, they had a link to home--Sheppard swallowed, breathed, blinked back the wetness in his eyes, and regained his macho. He was tired, he realized, so tired he was about to start hallucinating. "Transporter over there, sir," and his voice barely shook. He cleared his throat.

Caldwell looked. "In the closet?"

"Well, that's what we figured originally, but... think elevator." They sort of leaned Rodney against the wall and Sheppard touched the control panel.

Caldwell looked nonplussed when the door opened on a new hallway. "Smooth ride," he said.

Sheppard patted the wall. "That's Atlantis."

They picked Rodney up again--he was out cold, dead to the world, not even snoring--and carted him the half-hallway to his quarters. Sheppard hoped real hard at the door and, bless it, it opened for him without him needing to free a hand.

Caldwell looked surprised by that as well. "How does that work?"

"Oh... Atlantis likes me. It's, uh..." They set Rodney on the bed and Sheppard sank into the chair beside it. "The gene, you know, it..." He waved his hand vaguely.

The room went dark. He couldn't figure out why. Oh, wait--eyelids. He opened them again.

Caldwell was smiling slightly. "Get some sleep, Major. That's an order."

"Yes, sir..."

He must have slept, because he woke up. He had a hellacious crick in his neck and a wall-shaking racket beside him.

Sheppard sat up, and ow, ow, ow, seriously, ow, those chairs were not meant for people to sleep in. He tried to stand up but his legs didn't want to obey. The door seemed three miles away. He looked at the bed, the noise, okay, Rodney snoring, and the hell with it. He levered himself out of the chair and collapsed into the bed next to Rodney; one leg hung over the side, but he was horizontal and he didn't care.

And he slept, and dreamed of a long jumper ride. Ford sat beside him, counting down from ten, but though he counted off thousands of numbers, they never reached one.

He woke up once, realized Rodney was wrapped around him like a lover, made a command decision not to care, and went back to sleep.

He dreamed of autumn, sitting in the window of his grandmother's house, looking out at the apple tree. It was raining, and as he watched, the rain knocked the apples out of the tree one by one.

He woke up because Rodney was poking him. Rather, Rodney was setting his hand down blindly, feeling him up from chin to belly button. "Quit it," Sheppard said.

"You're in my bed."

"Yeah."

"Why are you in my bed?"

"Your chair sucks."

"Why are you in my room?"

"I carried you here."

"Oh. Okay." Rodney rolled onto his back, and so did Sheppard. They pressed together shoulder to elbow, knee to ankle, and didn't bother moving. They were both still fully dressed in the clothes they had been wearing for the past three days.

There were Wraith guts on Sheppard's boots. He hoped the laundry could handle that stain.

"We're alive," Rodney said.

"Yeah."

"We're alive."

"Most of us."

"We're _alive_," and Rodney was shaking, and Sheppard realized he was sobbing without tears, or maybe shouting without a voice. Something. Big emotion.

He opened his eyes and reached over to touch Rodney's shoulder and Rodney rolled into his arms and kissed him. And Sheppard was holding him before he knew it and kissing and feeling his heart because they were alive. Rodney was kicking Sheppard's shins with his big clunky boots because they were alive. They were alive. THEY WERE ALIVE and they weren't alone and there was nothing more amazing than that.

THE END.

 

All comments are welcome.


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